RAYMOND
Aunt Morgan made chicken quesadillas for lunch. Ernesto came in with Julio to eat lunch, his wrinkled face creased into a huge and happy smile. He was obviously thrilled to have his grandson with him. Julio on the other hand looked sullen. He sat at the counter and ate his food mechanically and did not participate much in the conversation. I had thought that having someone my age around the farm was going to be fun, but it looked like I was going to be disappointed.
“We will pick as much as we can pick tonight,” Morgan was saying, “And we’ll have to get up extra early in the morning to cut the more perishable things.” We were preparing for our first appearance at the farmers market in El Paso. Ernesto would stay back and take care of the farm with Julio while Morgan a
